


i would still be holding you like this

by sicklikewinter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Depression, M/M, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicklikewinter/pseuds/sicklikewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows that you're not completely put together, and he <i>knows</i> that you're not going to be put back together wholly at all; and he <i><b>loves you</b></i> all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i would still be holding you like this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jpegberts (ridarana)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jpegberts+%28ridarana%29).



> syd asked me to write this while we were chatting on skype  
> i still feel like i didnt do a good enough job on this oh no  
> im sorry
> 
> :c

Your chest aches, a deep down to the bone kind of ache, and you curl further into a ball on the bedroom floor. There is a pounding in your head that you can't get to stop no matter how many aspirin you take—you've had  **eight**  the past four hours and john hid the bottle from you, a desperate look in his blinding blue eyes and a worried frown on his lips—and you want to  ** _die_**.

You know that the feeling in the pit of your stomach, the curdled self-loathing and festering hatred for yourself churning together in a mixture that made you nauseous,  _should_  be neutralized, if not completely wiped out by the pills you were prescribed. 

(they do  ** _nothing_**  and youve had them for just over a month; john says to wait, you want to flush them down the toilet and hate yourself in peace)

Yours and John's bedroom is silent, save for the sound of your raspy breaths, and you wonder if John was even  _home_. The answer to your question arrives moments later, messy black hair framing black rimmed glasses and bright blue eyes filled with worry and anxiety, and he slips inside the bedroom nearly silent.

You shift and pull the blankets you puddled over top of you closer, and he jolts, blinking his eyes as he flops to his hands and knees. He crawls towards you, eyes wide and worried, and you lift your arm—he darts into your embrace quickly, settling so you're curled into his chest and you inhale deeply—before limply letting it fall back to the ground.

He doesn't say a word, he doesn't  **need**  to, and that's something you appreciate—you can't believe he's so  **accommodating**  that fucking shithead he loves you so much and you're so  _difficult_  with him how could you do that how could he  ** _stay_** —and you quietly wind your hand into his own hand and admire the warmth he lets out.

Your bones ache, a constant ice-cold feeling sits inside of you and you don't feel the cold; but  **John**  does and he worries constantly. He mouths at the crown of your head, and you close your eyes and hum quietly. Just barely making out the words he mouths, you feel your heart swell and your eyes want to water. 

He mouths, ' _I love you_ 's, ' _it's going to be okay_ 's, and ' _I'm here dave_ 's over and over again as his free hand fiddles with your hair. The quiet in the bedroom you wanted in the first place is gone, and you would be terribly upset with John for doing this; but he's  ** _here_**  and curled around you and silent.

His breathing blends with yours and you choke down a sob. He knows that you're not completely put together, and he  _knows_  that you're not going to be put back together wholly at all; and he  **loves you**  all the same. 

It's all you need to know to stay alive.


End file.
